


Interludes

by KameTerra



Series: Bound-verse [2]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Content, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-09
Updated: 2010-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KameTerra/pseuds/KameTerra
Summary: A collection of short sketches highlighting some of the more light-hearted aspects of Raph & April's relationship.  (You do not need to have read Bound to enjoy these.)





	1. Tremors

**Author's Note:**

> I have rated this entire collection as Mature due to adult themes in general, but every chapter is a little different. Some are more explicit and some are not sexual at all, but if you are just looking for a Raph/April boink-fest, you're probably in the wrong place. If you're curious how this pair came to be, I'd suggest reading Bound (complete) and Preludes (in progress). All sketches will follow the established storyline within Bound, but are peripheral to the main events.

* * *

_This chapter takes place approximately one week before the events of Bound._

* * *

  
Prior to arriving at her apartment that night, there was nothing that would have lead Raphael to suspect it would be  _the_  night.

The moment he stepped through the window and she met his eyes, though, he felt it as surely as he would have felt a presence behind him: a prickle across his flesh, a whisper in his heart… a tremor in his pulse. Maybe April hadn't known it until that moment, either—but when she looked at him with such burning intensity, green flames flickering in her eyes like the hottest part of a fire, he instinctively recognized the look for what it was. Later, when she took his hand and led him to the bedroom, there was a firmness to her grip that confirmed it wasn't just a possibility, but a certainty.

Numbly, he followed her. When the door closed behind them, awareness settled in.

 _This is it. This is happening_ _now_

They had kissed a lot, of course, and they had petted a little, but only tentatively so far. Even that had made him a little nervous, though he had striven to hide it. At such times he couldn't stop himself from thinking ahead to other things, and even though he realized she might have guessed, he didn't like the thought of revealing how little experience he actually had—that is to say, zero. But each touch had burned through him like a shot of whiskey, scorching his stomach and spreading through his entire body like tendrils of liquid fire. Now, the moment he'd been both longing for and dreading was imminent—and somehow all he could think of was that he shouldn't have gone for that last slice of pizza.

She stood before him, eyes gleaming intensely, and pulled her shirt over her head.

His mouth went completely dry.

Eyes still fixed on him, she unbuttoned her jeans.

Butterflies tap-danced in his stomach.

_Wait, I've had this dream before… Any moment I'll wake up…_

But when she slid her pants down, he knew it was real—if this had been a dream, her clothing would have simply fallen away, pooling around her on the floor like water around a melting ice cube. Instead, after she pushed her jeans down, one of her ankles got hooked when she tried to step out of the legging, and she had to perform an awkward little shake to free it.

Nope. That never happened in dreams… or movies. This was definitely real.

He stood frozen, taking in the sight of her slender form, milk-white skin almost glowing in the dim light, and tried to remember how to breathe. She left her undergarments on—practical, mismatched, certainly not chosen with seduction in mind—and stood looking at him, hair falling loose around her shoulders. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

His heart hammered beneath his plastron, and he tried to swallow without success. Was she expecting him to do something? He should, he should do something; he should go to her, kiss her, carry her to the bed…  _anything_  but continue to stand there looking like a moron!

_Just do it—it can't be that tough. Just cuz I ain't actually done it before…_

But see, the thing was, she  _had_ done it before. And if he did something wrong, she would know.

_Who cares, just go to her!_

Instead he just stood there like an idiot. Like a boy. Worse, a  _petrified_  boy.

Then she walked slowly to him, stopping only when she was as near as she could get without actually touching him. She stood close, her arms down at her sides, and shut her eyes. Inhaling deeply, she opened her eyes again and brought her hands up to his stomach region, placing her palms flat against his plastron.

He was starting to feel light headed. He could smell her… residual odors of shampoo and the mild, fresh scent of the soap she used, but on top of that another smell—one he'd caught hints of before that always made him feel slightly intoxicated. But it had never been this strong, this overwhelming.

Slowly, her hands began to glide up his front, and his knees almost buckled. She stopped at the top of his plastron, and leaned in against him. Then she looked into his eyes.

He managed to swallow, and grew so warm he felt himself break out in a sweat.  _Perfect. She's not gonna be able to keep her hands off ya now_ , said his inner sarcastic voice.

Christ, he was nervous. How did people in movies make this look so easy? Here was this gorgeous woman—correction, this gorgeous, practically  _naked_  woman—pressed right up against him, and so far all he'd been able to manage was to remain standing. Barely. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to perform, anyway. Maybe he should just get out of there before he embarrassed himself any further.

Except… _god_  how he wanted her.

She reached with one hand to touch his face, gently brushing his cheek with her knuckles…

And he felt her fingers trembling.

Trembling? Was she cold? It felt absolutely sweltering in the room to him. He studied her face curiously, and saw…was it possible?

Without thinking, he reached up and took her hand, holding it between his own and studying it in disbelief. Tremors.

He met her eyes again, and this time she smiled tentatively—just a flicker. And she swallowed hard. He could feel the heat radiating from her.

 _She's nervous, too,_  he thought in wonder.  _I'm a turtle—she doesn't really know what to expect with me any more than I do with her._

All of the sudden his knotted stomach came untied, and his apprehension slipped away.

Finally, he found he could move again—and he decided this wasn't going to be so difficult after all.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	2. Trust

He'd never imagined it would be like this.

Oh, he'd fantasized about it, of course... endlessly. But still it hadn't come close to the reality. And not just the physical sensations, either. Those, at least, he was somewhat prepared for, though they far surpassed anything he'd experienced on his own.

Nor was it the intimacy, exactly. He had known from TV and movies that it could be more than just a physical pleasure, that the emotions tied in with it made it more satisfying, more powerful. And with April, that was definitely true.

But that was as much as he'd known about sex from the sources he'd come into contact with.

Nothing could have prepared him for this.

He watched her eyes intently as he wove his fingers through the fine hair at the nape of her neck, never tiring of the of feel of sleek strands gliding through his fingers. Propped up on one elbow, he held the brunt of his weight off of her, feeling as though he might crush her if he didn't. She said it didn't bother her, that he didn't feel as heavy as he thought, but he couldn't help it—she was a framework of slender bones filled in with soft curves and draped in pale silk, while he was all plated armor and abrupt edges and leathery skin. It was miraculous to him that humans even survived as well as they did from day to day; everything about them just seemed so exposed, so fragile.

His large hand slid slowly from her nape down alongside her neck, his fingers passing over the knobs of vertebrae, his thumb following the ridge of her collar bone to her shoulder, touching lightly, almost reverently—like her body was priceless art that he couldn't believe he was allowed to touch. He continued tracing the contours of her body all the way down to her waist, skimming the back of his knuckles over the grooves of her lower ribs before gently holding her near the hipbone.

Her eyes, clear and luminous, remained on his face, and her hands tightened on him slightly in anticipation. She closed her eyes and gasped when he moved deeper inside of her, her head pressing back into the bed. Unable to resist, he lowered himself to lip at her exposed throat. When he didn't move again right away, she nuzzled his face and kissed him lingeringly. He waited until he felt her relax slightly around him before moving again, and was rewarded with another gasp even as she linked one ankle around his lower leg and strained to meet him, trying to pull him ever deeper.

He thought he might one day go too deep, and he would lose himself within her.

Maybe he already had.

Her breathing was becoming shallow and her fingers were beginning to press, claw-like, into the muscle of his shoulder, but he gritted his teeth and resisted the impulse to speed up. Sometimes he liked to go excruciatingly slow for as long as he could stand, making her writhe with need for him—but it wasn't just because he enjoyed seeing the obvious effect it had on her. It was also because, in moments like these, he could read everything in her emerald eyes so clearly… and he still couldn't quite believe what he saw in them. There was desire, of course—that in itself was incredible. And affection... possibly even love. He didn't know for sure. But what amazed him most, what made his breath catch and his throat prickle every time, was the trust he saw. Absolute, unwavering trust.

Trust in  _him_.

Raphael knew something about trust. He had trusted others with his life before, and all of his brothers had trusted theirs with him at various times. It was nothing exceptional—they were family and they depended on one another. But this was different, somehow. April's life was not in danger at the moment, yet she was willingly surrendering everything to him—clasping him, holding him with her eyes and her hands and her legs wrapped tightly about him—inviting him,  _encouraging_  him to invade her very body, her very soul for all he knew. Trusting that he wouldn't abuse the power she knowingly handed him.

And while Raphael prided himself on his courage in battle, he recognized in April courage of a different nature—the courage to allow herself to just be vulnerable, even knowing the risks.

Deep down, Raphael doubted whether he could ever be that brave. And that was why, when he looked in her eyes as they moved together, he knew that she was stronger than he could ever hope to be.

Nothing could have prepared him for that.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	3. Jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place prior to the beginning of Bound.

* * *

  
Raphael clenched his jaw again at the sound of laughter tumbling through from Donatello's lab alcove. "God dammit, can't they keep it down?!"

"What?" asked a distracted Michelangelo through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Those two gigglin' away over there like they're eight-year-old girls havin' some sorta tea party! It's just more a' Don's science-dork bullshit—ain't nothin' to get all giddy over. Drivin' me batshit! Can't even follow the fuckin' movie!" he ranted, forgetting himself.

"Easy, dude," Mike warned in a low voice. "If you don't watch the volume, Splinter's gonna come in and chew you out for cussing." Then the younger turtle shot him a sidelong glance before focusing back on the TV. "Uh… I guess I can turn the sound up if you want, bro, but there isn't exactly a lot to follow at the moment. They're mainly just, ya know, blowing shit up."

Raph breathed out slowly and reminded himself to be careful—Mike might get suspicious if he continued to overreact like this. He had hoped that by watching a mind-numbing action movie, he would be able to rid himself of the imagined scenes that had been looping continuously through his mind since April and Don had sequestered themselves in the lab: April's head tucked close to his brother's, her hair brushing over his neck and the exchange of their shared breath as they leaned close over some project, her hand grabbing his arm as her cheeks flushed in excitement over something that would have made about as much sense to Raphael as modern art…

He shook his head to clear it and ground his teeth. It was ridiculous, he knew… if she was interested in Don, she'd had plenty of time to act on it. Still, it was all he could do to resist the urge to stomp over to them, throw Donatello into a wall, and tell him to BACK THE FUCK OFF.

Yeah… probably not the best way to break the news. Raph knew he was just touchy because this was the first time both he and April had been around his family since they'd started… whatever the hell you called it when "dating" didn't exactly apply, and he still hadn't figured out how he was going to tell them.

And even though he and April were in separate rooms right now, it was driving him crazy to have to act "normal" while she was around—just the fact that he  _couldn't_  treat her differently made him ache to put his arm around her, or run his hand through her hair, or just touch her in any way. Raphael felt a tingle run through his body at the mere thought, and took a swig of his beer to distract himself.  _I can do this_ , he told himself.  _It's just for the evening—just a few more hours tops._

Not being able to see the two of them made his imagination run wild, but he told himself it was probably better that way… never mind that she and Don had been over there together for an hour already. He glanced at the clock on the DVD player—an hour and twelve minutes now.

 _Stop it!_   _Christ, just focus on the movie!_

So he stared intently at the TV, and tried to recall who the characters were and how the hell they'd gotten themselves into such an idiotic situation … but a moment later he heard laughter again, April's higher notes intermingling with Don's deep chuckles, and Raphael leaned forward and slammed his beer bottle down on the table.

"That's it!" he said as Mike looked over at him in surprise. "I've had enough—I'm goin' out!"

"Hey! The movie's just getting good!" protested Mikey. "If it's bugging you that much, why don't you just go ask them to keep it down?"

"Ain't fucking going over there," Raph growled as he stood.

Mike looked up at him. "Dude. I think I know what this is about," he said slowly, as if reluctant to bring it up.

Raphael froze, and his stomach went cold and began churning like one of those frozen beverage machines at a gas station.  _Oh shit, oh shit, I've fucked it up. Maybe if I explain he won't say anything to the others…_

"Look, maybe you should just cut her some slack," Mike continued in a quiet voice, eyes flicking in the direction of Don's lab. "I guess it's pretty natural that you'd take Casey's side, being best buds an' all, and I suppose it's to be expected that both of you would pissed at her cuz she broke up with him, but it's not like we can just shut her out. I mean, she's pretty much been holed up in her apartment for weeks—it's good for her to get away, geek out with Donny for a bit." He looked at Raph and shrugged a little. "Just give it some time. And, y'know, maybe try to swallow back your anger for once and remember you're  _her_  friend, too."

At that Raph's insides went from rolling in anxiety to slithering with guilt. Mike thought he was being loyal to Casey, his best friend…whom he'd betrayed. And worse, even though Casey could have gotten some sort of vengeful satisfaction by telling the other turtles the full story, he'd kept things to himself. Which pretty much made Raph the biggest asshole on the planet. Then again, he thought bitterly, Casey probably knew he was sure to do a beautiful job fucking things up all on his own.

Raphael couldn't continue to look Michelangelo in the eye after that, didn't even dare to respond. Feeling unaccountably angry as well as slightly ill, he just turned without a word and left the lair. Fortunately his brothers were pretty used to that, and Mike didn't try and stop him.

He hit the rooftops immediately upon reaching the surface, telling himself he just needed a good hard run and some fresh air. He would've quite literally jumped on the opportunity for a fight had anything presented itself, but things remained quiet, and he was smart enough to realize that it was probably for the best. Even after he'd run himself into near-exhaustion, he delayed his return to the lair by revisiting some old haunts and exploring some new ones. When he grew bored with that, he found himself wishing he'd grabbed his street clothes so he could catch a late movie. Instead he just kind of wandered aimlessly for a while… and somehow it was no great surprise to him when he ended up on the roof of April's building.

It was late—she'd probably be sleeping by now… unless she wasn't home yet. At that thought, a hot poker of irrational jealousy stabbed through him. He shook his head, trying to cast aside the notion. Of course she'd be home—she had to work the next day. True, she and Donatello had seemed awfully absorbed by whatever they'd been working on, but Donny wouldn't keep her there forever…

Even so as he descended and saw a light on in her apartment, relief coursed through him, relaxing muscles he hadn't even known had been tense. Peering into the apartment, all he could see was light coming from the living area—soft and yellow as opposed to bluish and flickering, which meant she was probably reading. He closed his eyes and pictured her in her usual spot tucked up against the arm of the squashy loveseat, knees pulled up with a book propped next to her, a mug of mint chamomile tea nearby. Smiling involuntarily, he wondered if she was wearing those ridiculous pajama pants she loved, the flannel ones with penguins wearing Santa Claus hats. He'd poked fun at her when he'd first seen them, stating that they looked plain ridiculous since it was months past Christmas, but next time he'd come over it had been to find a tiny, false Christmas tree decorated in one corner of the room, and April in the kitchen cutting sugar cookies into holiday shapes. In spite of his protests, she had insisted they spend the evening frosting the cookies, so he'd contented himself with surreptitiously dabbing frosting on her face at every opportunity.

Raphael kept his eyes closed for another moment, basking in the memory, but when he opened them again it didn't take long for his smile to revert back to the default frown. Remembered feelings of happiness and contentment were no match for the persistent doubt and pricking jealousy that stalked him tonight. He fidgeted a little in indecision. Now that he knew she had gotten home okay, he should probably go. Never mind that at that moment he wanted more than anything see her, to touch her, to reassure himself that nothing had changed—but he didn't want to seem pathetic or needy. No, he should definitely leave…but before he could force his muscles to move, he saw her walking toward the kitchen carrying a mug, and his hand shot out of its own accord to rap softly on the window pane.

April jumped a little at the unexpected noise and set the mug down before coming to the window and opening it. Her undisguised delight at seeing who it was a sent jet of warmth through Raphael, but her smile and the slight flush on her cheeks also brought to mind his earlier mental images of April with his brother, and instead of smiling back his frown deepened.

"Hey," she said simply, smiling at him as if she didn't notice his rather grim expression. She moved aside to let him in.

"Hey," Raph replied as he crouched on the window sill, but he made no move to enter the rest of the way. He still wasn't sure what he was doing here, and he was afraid of making a wrong move. But he couldn't resist just looking at her, taking in the details, wanting more than ever to touch her—his hands were burning with the memory of her skin beneath them, and he longed to take her in his arms, kiss her, sweep her off her feet and…Raphael swallowed and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to discontinue that line of thought. He didn't want her to think that was why he'd come here tonight, couldn't risk ruining things when they'd only just begun.  _Especially not if she's having doubts_ , he thought.

There were several moments of silence between them as they stood looking at one another, and then they both began to speak simultaneously.

"I just thought I'd—,"

"I was hoping you'd—,"

April laughed. "You first," she said with a smile.

Still balanced on the window sill, Raph cleared his throat to speak, but he didn't know how to explain the thoughts running through his head, didn't know if he should even  _try_. Moments passed, and the silence began to grow awkward. April's smile evaporated into attentiveness as she waited for him to speak.

"Is everything okay?" she asked finally.

"Yeah, um, everything's fine. I guess I just, I was just passing by an' thought…"

_Are you sure it's really me you want?_

"…thought I'd make sure you got home okay."

April squinted very slightly as she studied his eyes, and Raphael had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being stripped down layer by layer—shell and skin and banded muscle tissue peeled away as cleanly as if they were merely convenient disguises he wore rather than parts of his body, leaving him hideously exposed. She continued to stare into him, and part of Raphael wanted to look away, terrified of what he might see of himself reflected in her eyes—but it was for that very reason that he refused to drop his gaze. He was unwilling to let fear dictate even the slightest of his actions. So he crouched there on the window sill, and stared right back at her.

Her expression intensified somehow then, and without warning she leaned in and kissed him.

Ninja or not, Raphael was caught completely off guard, and in his surprise he almost fell through the window. He managed to catch himself by grabbing the sides of the frame, but before he could kiss her back she pulled away slightly, one of her hands still lingering on his neck.

"Come in?" she said softly.

It was a simple invitation, no hidden meaning discernable in the tone. But her hand playing delicately along the skin between his neck and shoulder telegraphed another message—one that caused Raph's heart to accelerate and rendered him incapable of leaving. Wordlessly he stepped inside, and April proceeded to close the window and the blinds behind him. When she turned back to him her eyes were blazing, and though Raphael recognized the look, he felt uncharacteristically hesitant. Besides the lingering feelings of doubt and jealousy, he was still new to this level of intimacy. He wanted her—god, he wanted her so bad his hands were practically shaking—but he couldn't assume that just cuz she'd invited him in she-

Mercifully, April put an end to his thoughts by kissing him again, her lithe body pressing against his, warming and molding to him like candle wax as he responded and kissed her back with fervor. The world stilled as all of his senses were smothered in a honey-gold coating of ecstasy, and he would have been quite happy to stay that way indefinitely, holding her, kissing her, feeling the warmth of her… that is, until her hands began moving over him. Slowly they began exploring his shell, his plastron, the limited areas of exposed skin, and he realized even through a fog of growing desire that something was very different.

In his meager experience thus far, her touches had always been more patient—gentle and firm, though not without delicious teasing. But now her hands on him were hard, sure, and more insistent with every passing moment, kneading the muscles of his shoulders and arms as if testing their solidity, grasping the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away—not that there was any danger of that. After a while she eased back a little, somewhat breathless, and abandoned his mouth in favor of his neck. Raphael let out a low groan and shuddered as a chain of tantalizing kisses ended with a graze of teeth on the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. Things were heating up so quickly his brain could scarcely process it, and he knew that if she kept on like this he was going to have a difficult time reining himself in…but by where her hands went next, it became apparent that wasn't going to be an issue. From that point on he didn't try to reason anymore, didn't hesitate—just matched her in urgency as all logic was incinerated in a blaze of desire.

His last lucid thought before sensations took over completely was an overwhelming thankfulness that she wasn't wearing a bra—he still couldn't work the damn thing _s_.

Before he knew it they were next to the kitchen table, and he had enough presence of mind to set his weapons aside before continuing his exploration of her body, his hands gliding along silken curves and ravenously devouring every inch they could reach under her clothing. April hurriedly pulled her shirt over her head, and when she sat on the edge of the table she cooperated as Raphael hooked his fingers under the waistband of both her panties and pajama bottoms and eased them off.

And that was it—no more barriers existed between them, either physical or mental. They were of one mind as she parted her legs and drew him in, both of them crying out at the agonizing joy of it when they finally merged. For an eternal moment they just kept still, clinging to each other and letting the feeling of completeness wash through them. Then Raphael began to move, slowly at first, until everything flowed together in a concerted symphony of pleasure—mouths and tongues, armor and skin, tantalizing friction and long, smooth strokes rising to a crescendo until April was whimpering and Raphael was breathless and gasping. In a very short time he began to feel the rising tingle, the heady rush that meant release wasn't far off. He tried to curb himself, intending to slow down, but April grasped the rim of his shell held him close when he began to draw back.

"It's okay," she gasped out. "I… I'm—"

Her words broke off as Raph delved deeply once again, shaking with the effort of holding back for even a few more seconds. Her grip on him tightened, and as her breaths grew short and ragged he gripped her hip and pushed in fiercely, gratefully, urging her to the edge. April arched and went rigid for drawn out moment, taking him with her as she went tumbling over the brink, and then they were falling. The fall seemed to last an eternity, and though he never felt an impact, when it ended Raphael wondered if he had died. He couldn't move his body, didn't even know if he still  _had_ a body—all he was aware of was an all-encompassing warmth-

And when he finally opened his eyes, he swore he was looking at an angel.

They remained unmoving for some time, clinging together weakly as their heart rates gradually slowed. All Raphael could do was hold April to him and marvel at what had just happened. He hadn't expected anything like this, certainly couldn't have predicted the desperate passion that overtook them both. It had been so brief—embarrassingly brief, actually, if not for the fact that she had been right there with him. The few times they had made love before may have lasted longer, but nothing had come anywhere close in intensity.

April finally stirred against him from where she sat on the edge of the kitchen table, legs still wrapped loosely around him, and interrupted his thoughts yet again—this time by putting both hands on his face to get him to look at her. She smiled the kind of lazy, satisfied smile that was only possible in the afterglow, and smoothed his cheek tenderly.

"Raphael," she said finally, her eyes reaching deep into his. "If that wasn't clear enough for you,  _I'm sure_ ," she said with conviction.

His heart skipped a beat or three.

"How did you… I mean, I didn't realize I said that out loud."

She smiled and kissed the tip of his snout before hugging him, her cheek against his. "You didn't," she whispered, and she slid one hand down from his neck to his plastron, letting it rest gently over his heart. "But I heard you anyway."

-=-=-=-=-=-


	4. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s388.photobucket.com/user/KameTerra/media/Kame_zpskqi6lxrc.jpg.html)  
>  Fanart by Mainframe  
> TheDyeIsCast on DeviantArt

* * *

  
"Okay, it's official," Raphael panted, flopping onto his back. "You've managed to kill me this time."

April smiled and rolled towards him with a contented sigh, bringing the blanket with her as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. "I highly doubt that," she said. "You're twenty-one, not to mention a ninja. I'm sure after a little nap you'll be as good as new."

"Wow, so you're actually gonna let me go to sleep this time?" he said, a trace of a smile creeping over his face. "You weren't so keen on that an hour ago."

She hitched one shoulder in a shrug, which was about as much as she was willing to move at the moment. Her entire body felt deliciously heavy and somehow slow, like she was mired in molasses. "I'm feeling generous, I suppose," she said cheekily. "And besides, we actually made it to the bed for a change."

Raphael gave a deep, throaty chuckle—one that April only heard when he was feeling particularly relaxed. "Guess we did—even if we didn't exactly manage to stay on it," he answered, glancing above them to the bed where a tangle of sheets spilled over the side and down to the floor where they lay. Then he turned his head to look at her. "What's gotten in to you lately, anyway?" he asked lightly. "Yesterday you dragged me away in the middle of eating dinner, and tonight you barely let me get all the way through the window! Not that I'm complaining! But you've been, um, extremely eager lately, let's just say."

"I guess I have... is that okay?" she asked, a trace of hesitation in her voice. He'd given no indication that it wasn't, but when he put it that way, she couldn't help but be a little self-conscious. Usually it was pretty close to fifty-fifty as far as which of them initiated sex, but she realized that lately, she hadn't even given him a chance to do so.

" _Okay?_ " he asked incredulously."Yeah, it's okay! More than okay, it's… well, hotter than hell, actually." He turned toward her again, grinning, and pushed some hair out of her face before tilting her mouth towards him with a gentle hand.

She smiled and pressed her lips briefly against his wide mouth, then settled back down with her head on his shoulder. As she lay there, tracing lazy patterns on his plastron with her fingertips, she continued to think about his previous question. "Part of the reason I've been so eager is just because of you," she said abruptly, not even realizing until she felt him twitch a little that he'd probably already begun to doze off. She closed her eyes, willing to let it go if he was that tired. But to her surprise, he stirred a little and answered.

"How d'ya mean?" he mumbled.

"Hm? Oh… let's just say your skills have improved a great deal since we've been together—not that I was ever disappointed or anything." She glanced at his face then, mildy amused but not at all surprised to see his mouth curve in a self-satisfied smile. "And it's partly just… well, hormones, I guess," she went on. "I've been on the pill so long, I didn't even realize how much it was dampening my sex drive until I stopped."

Raphael nodded slightly with his eyes closed, looking as though he was starting to drift off again, but the next moment eyes snapped open and he sat up sharply, as if just he'd only just registered her words.

"WHAT?!" he exclaimed, hastily extricating himself from April and scooting backward slightly until his shell hit the side of the bed.

April sat up herself, realizing too late that she had foolishly broken one of the cardinal rules of pillow talk. Right up there with Never Talk About Your Cycle, was Never Mention Anything Even Vaguely Concerning Procreation. It was common knowledge that both topics were guaranteed to not only kill the mood, but completely freak your partner out.

Raphael just stared at her, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "So you just, you stopped taking them? When?!"

"Over a month ago, but—"

"But you started something else, right?  _Right?"_

"No, Raph, I didn't. I figured—"

"So you're not taking anything at all?"

"No. Like I—"

"AND IT DIDN'T OCCUR TO YOU TO MENTION THIS?! THAT I JUST MIGHT DESERVE TO KNOW?! Jesus, April!"

"Actually, no! I mean, it didn't occur to me to tell you! I didn't even think you knew I was on birth control in the first place; you certainly never  _asked_  me! "

"I DIDN'T ASK BECAUSE I ALREADY KNEW!"

"How did you…" she began, but even before he answered it dawned on her.

_Casey._

"How the fuck do you  _think_?" he shot at her, and if he was angry before, being forced to make any reference to his former best friend only made it worse. "Godammit, April! So this whole time, we've been…and you haven't been…WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!"

"Well if you'd just let me finish an entire sentence, I could explain!" she flashed back, pulling a section of blanket closer around her body.  _So much for cuddling_ , she thought, but although he was obviously still pissed, he remained quiet, apparently waiting to hear what she had to say.

"Look," she said evenly. "I just didn't think to tell you—it's as simple as that. I went on the pill years ago because I knew I didn't want children yet, but I was never crazy about the idea of loading up my body with synthetic hormones, and there are all sorts of side effects. So after it was clear you and I were, um, committed, I just…figured I didn't really need them anymore."

"You figured—you didn't—how the—" he stuttered on for a moment, but soon realized that forming a single coherent sentence was completely out of the realm of possibility. At that point his reply degenerated into a string of barely intelligible swear words. After he'd run out of profanities, which took a lot longer than April expected, he stood up and began pacing about the room. Clearly still agitated, he avoided eye contact, and April just let him cool off on his own.

Finally he halted and turned to look at her. "I still can't believe you would do something like that without even bothering to mention it to me. I mean, I may be new to this, but I know how things  _work_ , April. I mean, how do you know you won't—" He didn't finish the sentence, but gestured in the general direction of her midsection.

It came to her then just how stupid she'd been to think they were both operating under the same set of assumptions. "I'm sorry," she said gently as she studied his eyes. "This is my fault. I just assumed that we both…" April faltered and then sighed, trying to think of how to say it delicately. "I've never actually said it, so there's no way you would have known, but…I think we're lucky to even be  _physically_  compatible. Genetically… I just don't see how it's possible."

His brows shot up. "Do you know that for sure?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, but Raph—"

"Well then it seems like one hell of a risk to take! What if you're wrong?!"

She held his eyes for a moment longer, then her stomach gave a little flutter of panic and she looked down.  _What if I_ _am_ _wrong?_ she asked herself. The possibility had never truly occurred to her before—at least not in a way that made it seem real. There was no way to be certain, and even as far-fetched as it seemed, if she  _were_  to become pregnant, what then?

All at once her mind was hurtling forward, speeding down the colinear pathways of a dozen different scenarios and all of the emotions and consequences that went with them, pale and faded compared to what they would be if any of the imagined possibilities came to pass, but no less real for it. And the common thread woven through every single scenario she could conceive of was fear—deep, prickling, and intense, like a limb coming back to life after losing circulation.

What would a product of their genes look like? Would it even be recognizable as either species, turtle or human, or would the features be just different enough from a human to be considered gross deformities? Would she even let it go that far, or would she terminate it quietly before it had really begun, carrying the burden of her choice with her the rest of her life? Perhaps she would find the courage to carry the child in spite of her fears, nurture it, keep it, only to live to regret it. Or worse… and this thought made April go cold to her very core—perhaps no matter how much she  _didn't_  regret keeping it, it would still end in heartbreak over a body too frail for the life-force that filled it.

April swallowed, trying hard to maintain her composure as she attempted to coral her racing thoughts and discern her true feelings on the matter. An inconvenience, a mistake, a tragedy…was it worth the risk, no matter how improbable it seemed?

At last she took a deep breath, and looked up to meet his anxious eyes, hoping that something of what she felt showed in her own.

"If I'm wrong, Raphael…if I'm wrong, it would be a miracle."

-=-=-=-=-=-


	5. Soup

 

 

 

"Hi Raph," April croaked into the phone.

" _Hey. How's it goin'?_ "

"Could be better."

" _I'll bet—you sound like shit_.  _Uh, no offense._ "

"None taken. I  _feel_  like shit," she confirmed, wincing as she swallowed.

" _You comin' down with something?_ "

"Just a cold, I think," she answered. "Started out this morning as a mild sore throat, but it hurts like hell now, and my head feels all heavy."

" _That sucks. So you stayed home from work, then?_ "

"I couldn't. I had some people call yesterday looking for some decorative pieces for their office, and I encouraged them to stop by today. We didn't set a specific time, and I can't afford to blow off potential customers."

He cursed softly under his breath. " _Did they at least show?_ "

"They did," she said hoarsely. "I didn't have exactly what they were looking for, but they might hire me to track some things down," she explained as she made her way into the family room and flopped down heavily on the loveseat.

" _That's something then, I guess."_  He paused for a moment. _"So you, uh… you still want me to come over?_ "

April didn't miss his hesitation, and she thought she knew the reason for it. "No, it's okay," she answered, letting her head fall back against the cushion. Just holding it up felt like too much of an effort. "I don't think I'd be very good company tonight; I'm absolutely exhausted."

" _That's not—I wasn't…I jus' meant, I'd still come over, if you wanted…if ya need anything._ "

She smiled a little, just a flicker. She knew his offer was sincere, and that in itself meant a lot to her. "I know you would, and I appreciate the offer, but it's really not necessary. I'm just going to have some tea and go to bed early. Besides… I know taking care of sick people isn't really your thing."

It wasn't that she wouldn't have welcomed his presence—really, who wouldn't like having someone take care of them when they weren't feeling well? But even though Raphael had always shown great concern when his family members were sick or hurt, he seemed to prefer to lend his assistance in less direct ways, such as fetching groceries or hunting down medicines. If what she had was anything remotely serious, she wouldn't hesitate to accept his help, but for something like this? It seemed a little too needy this early in the relationship…especially if it would make him uncomfortable. No, she could handle a little cold on her own.

Besides, if she knew Raphael, his bedside manner was probably lousy.

"… _You sure?_ "

"I'm sure; I'll be fine," she assured him. No doubt he'd feel a bit guilty for not coming over, but he had to be relieved he was off the hook.

" _Okay…well, gimme a call if you need anything._ "

"I will," she answered, making an effort to sound less drained than she actually was.

" _I mean it. If you need_ _anything_ _._ "

"Got it."

" _Right. Well…get some rest then_.  _And, uh, feel better._ "

"Thanks. I'll try."

She ended the call and dropped her hand to the arm rest, swallowing painfully as she let her head loll to the side. She'd taken some medicine shortly before Raphael called, but it hadn't taken effect yet, and she didn't have anything for immediate relief. In a minute, she'd get up and see about making some tea—that might help soothe her throat and revive her a little. In a minute… but right now it felt so good to just sit here with her eyes closed—they felt hot and grainy, which for her, usually meant a fever was setting in. She drew her legs up onto the loveseat and shifted a little to get more comfortable, trying not to think about how miserable she felt.

_I just need to rest for a minute, then I'll get up and make some tea._

_In a minute._

_In a minute…_

The next thing she was aware of was a stifling warmth pressing around her,  _smothering_  her, and she floundered out of the mire of sleep to find herself piled high with blankets. She blinked drowsily and sat up a little, stiff-necked and damp with sweat, and even though her mind was still fuzzy, she became immediately aware of several things: her throat felt like it was on fire, the TV was on, and Raphael was sitting on the couch. She rubbed her sleep-encrusted eyes, wondering if she was seeing things, and sat up a little more before pushing the heap of blankets further down. No wonder she was hot; there had to be at least a million of them on her.

Raph glanced over at her, apparently just noticing she was awake. "Need another blanket?" he asked.

 _Another blanket?_ Was he trying to be funny? "No," she said, but her voice only came out as a harsh whisper, like dried leaves blowing along concrete. She tried to work up some moisture, but her tonsils were so swollen and painful she could barely swallow. "Hot," she croaked.

Immediately he was beside her, stripping away layers of blankets, and she sighed in relief as the heat trapped next to her body began to dissipate.

"You were shivering, before," he explained, glancing at her with concerned eyes as he crouched next to the loveseat. "Think I went through every blanket in the apartment before you stopped."

April's brain was beginning to catch up now, and the question foremost in her mind was what Raphael was doing here. Obviously, he'd decided to come over in spite of her reassurance that she would be fine without him, but how long had he been here? And just how long had she been sleeping? She licked her dry lips and attempted to speak, though she still couldn't manage anything above a whisper. "What are you—"

"I brought soup!" Raphael blurted out before she could even finish her sentence.

She looked at him blankly.

"I mean, I didn't know if you, um, had any here," he explained, briefly averting his eyes, "and we have a whole shelf of ramen at the lair—kinda overflowing, ya know? I think Mikey booby-traps it so when you open the cabinet, it falls on you, an' instead a' stacking it all back up when that happened to me tonight, I just thought I'd, uh, get rid of some of it, bring it over here in case, um… in case you wanted some."

April continued to stare, and apparently Raph didn't know what to make of her reaction because he stammered on with increasing (and somehow endearing) awkwardness.

"And since I was comin' over anyway, I thought I'd bring some tea, too, since you, uh, you said you were gonna make some. It's this medicinal shit Master Splinter makes us drink when we're sick, but it ain't as bad as it sounds." He shrugged. "I could, like, make some for you…if ya want."

She swallowed carefully and opened her mouth to speak, but Raphael cut in before she could make so much as a sound.

"I know, I know, I ain't a big tea fan—'less it has somethin' stronger in it—but that don't mean I can't make the stuff. If there's one thing sensei made sure we mastered when we were kids, it was how to make a decent cup of tea. Sort of a prerequisite for ninjutsu training, you could say." He paused for a moment, dropping his eyes and fingering the seam of the one blanket left covering her. "Anyway…I was just gonna bring this stuff by, but when I found you already sleeping, I thought… maybe it wasn't a bad idea to just soft of… stick around for a bit. Make sure you were okay."

April didn't try to speak this time, she just waited for him to go on. But all he did was look at her, his eyes flicking back and forth as he studied hers, expectant and somehow… apprehensive. It took her a couple of seconds to realize he was waiting somewhat fearfully for her reaction.

Did he…did he really thing she'd be  _mad_? Mad that he'd been considerate enough to bring soup in case she got hungry? Mad that he'd sat with her and made sure she was warm enough while she slept, in spite of her assertions that she didn't need anything?

No words could even fully express what she felt at that moment, which was actually okay since it was difficult for her to talk anyway. Instead she simply reached out and took his hand, which had been resting on the cushion near the edge of the blanket. He glanced down and then back up again, his eyes seeking confirmation of the meaning behind the gesture, and she offered a weak but genuine smile as she squeezed his hand lightly.  _Thank you._

Slowly his expression eased, face smoothing and shoulders falling as his muscles lost their tension. He squeezed back, gentle and sure, his oversized digits all but encasing hers, and even though it was only their hands that were touching, April couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so protected.

"Let's see how you're doin', huh?" he said, not a trace of his earlier hesitation in evidence.

April nodded carefully, minimizing the movement because of her swollen lymph nodes, and she didn't even question Raph's ability to assess her medical condition. She didn't even care. She just closed her eyes and savored the touch of his cool wrist on her forehead. After a moment he withdrew his hand, apparently satisfied, and brushed away some damp hair that clung to her face. Then he leaned closer and placed his hands on either side of her neck near the angle of her jaw.

"Open your mouth," he ordered softly, and she complied, moving with his hands when he tipped her head back slightly to get a better look at her throat. His face was so close to hers, she could feel the warmth of his breath every time he exhaled, but she didn't mind. "Ouch," he said, wincing sympathetically when he got a good look at the back of her throat. "That's gotta hurt, all right. Couldn't fit a dime back there right now."

Raphael dropped his hands and rocked back on his heels, and April closed her mouth and swallowed reflexively.

The turtle didn't miss the obvious effort it took for her to swallow. "Think you can manage some pills, if I bring you some?" he asked. "Don't talk, just nod yes or no."

She nodded yes.  _God, please, bring some pills._ Her throat was dry, torn, and she knew swallowing them would be hell, but at least it would bring some relief. She hoped.

"Okay," Raph said, "But first…there's somethin' I gotta tell ya." His eyes found hers, direct and candid, and it struck her then just how different he seemed from his usual volatile self—so serious and considerate…so reliable, like she could just leave it to him everything would be fine.

He reached out with one hand and smoothed the mussed hair alongside her face, caressing her cheek gently as he did so. "Just because this ain't my thing, doesn't mean I don't wanna be here for you." His eyes swept over her face, and April felt her heart flutter in spite of how miserable she felt. He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the whole world, and she knew then that she'd been grossly mistaken on one critical point—

At this moment, there was nowhere he'd rather be.

Suddenly her throat ached with more than just infection, and tears blurred the edges of her vision. She leaned forward and melted into his ready embrace, burrowing her face into the cool hollow of his shoulder as he held her and stroked her head.

"Come on, let's get you to the couch," he said after a moment. "You'll be more comfortable there." And even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with her legs, she didn't protest when he lifted her easily in his arms, blanket and all, and rose to carry her to the couch.

"I gotcha," he whispered against her hair. "I gotcha."

April tightened her arms around his neck, squeezing her eyes shut as she pressed her cheek against the sanctuary of his skin.

_You have no idea._

_-=-=-=-=-=-=-_


	6. Rocket Science

"Uhhn."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Wuh… Wow."

"There's an improvement, a real word this time. Care to try an entire sentence?"

She was giving him shit, but Raphael couldn't seem to muster up even the slightest bit of annoyance over it. Noooope. In truth, he couldn't muster up much caring about anything at all. "I…can't feel my legs," he muttered a bit thickly, eyes still closed. He knew he had the most idiotic grin plastered on his face. Didn't care about that, either.

She laughed. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah…" he said slowly after a moment of assessment. "Good thing. Very good thing."

She laughed again. "Well at least it wasn't a wasted effort, then. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to, at first. You seemed a little…I don't know, hesitant. Or maybe confused?"

"Nah," he answered, speech becoming easier as his mental fog lifted. "You jus' took me by surprise, is all. I mean,  _I've_  thought about it. Like, a lot. But we been, um, doin' stuff for a while now, an' I thought maybe..." He stopped.

"Maybe what?" she prompted..

"Maybe you just…didn't want to."

"What, because you're a turtle? Turns out the equipment's pretty much the same. It's a blow job, not rocket science."

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Well…" he said thoughtfully after a moment, "It's a  _little_  like rocket science, don't you think?"

"Maaaaybe. 'Little' being the operative word."

"Oh, ouch," Raphael said, trying to sound wounded.

"Sorry. Guess that one was below the belt. Literally."

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "I got it, thanks. Anything else?"

"Nope, think that's it for now," she answered pertly. Then she was quiet for a short time. "It wasn't because of you that I waited so long," she continued in a more serious tone. "I just have to be in the right mood, I guess. There were  _plenty_  of other things to explore, and it didn't occur to me that you might be…waiting for it." She turned her head to the side to look at him, smiling softly. "Though it should have, I suppose."

"S'okay—better late than never."  _And totally worth the wait._ "Just glad you ain't one a' those chicks who, like, doesn't do 'em at ALL."

"One of 'those chicks'?"

"Uh, yeah." Raph tried to tread carefully, sensing he might've stepped into potentially dangerous territory. "You know, like the, uh, bra-burning ones, the feminist chicks, or whatever."

"Ah. Of course. And they're opposed to performing oral sex because…?"

Shit. It was a trap; he knew it was a trap, but it was too late to backpedal now. He fidgeted slightly. "They, um, they find it…" He searched for the word. "Insulting, or something. Demeaning. Yeah," he finished lamely. Raph glanced at her, though he couldn't see much of her expression. He wasn't sure if she'd take offense, or just plain laugh at him. He was sure  _he'd_  laugh at himself, if he was the one listening to this. But she did neither. Instead she rolled towards him a little and propped herself up on one elbow, a curve of a smile just visible in the semidarkness.

"Fascinating," she said. "Well, I'm sorry you've had so little success getting head from the, uh, 'bra-burning feminists'. But I'm fine with it, now and then." She reached toward him, running a finger delicately across the upper plates of his plastron and eventually down onto his bare chest, allowing her nail to drag lightly over the skin. She was pressing just hard enough for it to tickle. Teasing. And even spent as he was, he couldn't repress a shudder. Damn she knew how to drive him crazy.

April's smile deepened at his reaction. "Besides," she said with a hint of amusement in her voice. She leaned in close. "How could I find it demeaning to have you completely at my mercy?"

-=-=-=-=-=-


	7. Bubble Bath

"Raph, what's the problem? I thought you agreed to this? **"**

The turtle was glaring at April, his arms folded across his plastron, and she would have laughed except that she was too well aware of how fast his mood would turn from bad to worse if she did.

"Somehow, I didn't think this was what you had in mind when you suggested something to help me relax."

April rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't—you're a guy, so naturally you thought I was talking about sex," she said matter-of-factly. "I could have said 'Raph, would you like some lemonade' and you'd think I was talking about sex."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't try and twist things around, make me look like some shallow prick with only one thing on his mind—what was I  _supposed_  to think, with you throwing yourself at me—"

"I didn't throw myself at you!" she interjected.

"-an' doin' that thing to my neck…"

"I…" April started to protest, but then clamped her mouth shut. She had no legitimate defense against that one; she simply hadn't been able to resist. "Okay, okay," she conceded, putting up her hands appeasingly, "But I just thought it might be nice to switch things up a little, and a nice hot bath always helps me when I'm tense." She crouched next to the tub and started the water, then glanced up at him. "Look, tell you what—you can pick which bubbles to use."

Raph sputtered a little at that. "Wha- you never said anything about bubbles!"

She looked at him again in feigned surprise as she held a couple of fingers under the stream of water, waiting for it to become hot. "Well, naturally there'll be bubbles," she answered, as if that should have been obvious. "What's a bath without bubbles?" Satisfied with the temperature, she plugged the drain to let the tub fill, then straightened.

"What's a bath without…is that a trick question, or do you have the mistaken idea that you're bein' cute? Cuz I'm pretty sure a bath with no bubbles is just a goddamn  _bath_ , April! Which is completely different from a  _bubble bath_!" he fumed.

April ignored him, went into a cabinet near the sink, and began rummaging through it. "What sounds good—Lilac? Grapefruit Splash? Or how about Refreshing Melon?"

He grimaced. "Does it always have to be that flowery, girly shit?"

"No, but I'm fresh out of the Axle Grease and Old Sweaty Laundry scented bubbles at the moment," she replied smoothly. She continued to rummaging through the cabinet. "Oh, here—Cinnamon Vanilla—I think that's as manly as I've got." April looked back at him over her shoulder, but Raphael hadn't so much as cracked a smile. Instead he continued to glare at her with his arms crossed in front of him. She shrugged. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

She went back to the partially filled tub, and squeezed some of the vanilla-scented liquid into the water beneath the spigot. Instantly a rich aroma rose in waves from the hot water, and frothy bubbles began to accumulate on the surface.

Raph eyed the filling tub like it was a cauldron full of witches' brew. "Ain't no way you're gettin' me in there."

"Oh, come on Raph, it's nice," she pleaded, giving what he called her Disney eyes. "Won't hurt to try it…look, take a bath with me this one time, I'll never ask you to join me again," she added as she bent to turn off the faucet.

"You didn't  _ask_  me in the first place! You tricked me!"

She ignored his accusation. "Please? I'll let you pick the activity next time—then we'll be even."

His expression remained stony.

April sighed in resignation. "Ooookay, I guess I'll take a bath all by myself." After quickly pinning her hair up, she pulled the belt holding her robe closed, and slowly eased the garment over her shoulders before allowing it to slip to the floor. Leaving it where it fell, she pointed her toes daintily and stepped into the tub, sucking in air through her teeth as she lowered herself into the sudsy water. She closed her eyes and gave another blissful sigh as she rested her head back against the rim of the tub before asking lazily, "Are you sure you don't want to get in?"

She opened her eyes slowly to wait for his answer, and noted that although his arms were still crossed, little else was left of his formerly steely demeanor. He blinked and swallowed visibly, setting his mouth in a firm line and obviously trying to regain his previous stern expression. "I, uh… it don't look like there's room for two in there," he replied hesitantly.

"There's room—it'll be…  _cozy_ , that's all."

Raphael looked torn for a moment, but April sat up a little higher in the bath, quite conscious of exactly how much cleavage was visible above the water and how the foamy soap trickled down between her breasts.

His eyes moved exactly where she had anticipated, and after a moment he grumbled something under his breath and began removing his pads and belt. April smiled to herself, and refrained from saying a single word when he placed his weapons carefully on the floor next to the tub, even though she desperately wanted to remark that it was an excellent idea to keep something pointy within reach in case the bubbles started to overpower them.

Just as he was about to step into the tub, she said, "Hey, aren't you taking off your mask? It's probably going to get wet and smell like vanilla—not that I'd mind, but…"

In response, he simply fixed her with a cutting look.

"I'll risk it," he stated irritably, as if shedding that mask would mean parting with the last shred of his masculinity. She drew her legs in to make space, and he lowered himself quickly into the tub and awkwardly settled himself facing her.

For a moment they just sat looking at one another—April feeling incredibly pleased and making no effort to hide it, and Raph scowling and appearing about as comfortable as a Foot ninja in a tutu.

April couldn't help it—she laughed. Raph's face darkened, and although she tried to stop, it only made her laugh harder.

The turtle made a noise like a growl and began to pull himself up, cursing under his breath. Gaining control of herself, April reached out and put a hand on his lower leg as he was standing. "Wait! Raph! Don't go, you just-,"

"Save it," he flashed. "I'm done."

"Hold on! I'll… you can go in a second," she said somewhat desperately, "but I have to ask you something really important first."

He scanned her eyes for a second as he stood in the tub, dripping water and suds, and though he didn't answer, he was obviously waiting to hear what she had to say.

Thinking fast, April scooped up some bubbles with both hands, and applied them liberally to the lower half of her face.

"Do I look okay with a beard?" she asked, gazing up at him seriously.

He looked at her expressionlessly for a few seconds, but then his mouth twitched. He lowered himself slowly back into the water. "Not bad…" he admitted, and scooped up some bubbles for himself, placing a liberal amount right on top of his head. "Do I look okay with hair?"

She burst out laughing again, but this time Raph laughed with her, eventually leaning forward and plopping another scoop of bubbles right on top of her head. April spluttered a little as soap dropped down her face and into her mouth.

"That's better," Raphael said with a smirk. "Put on another hundred pounds and you can play Santa Claus."

April laughed helplessly, her heart surging with happiness at the sight of his smile. "God, I love you," she said with a laugh, and it took a moment for her to realize she'd said the words, actually spoken them out loud. They both froze, and panic began to rise in her as her eyes slid to his face.

_Oh shit oh shit, what have I done!_

As the words replayed in her head, she saw Raph's smile fade and his eyes slowly widen, and before he'd had a chance to register anything but shock, she said, "Oh god, I'm sorry, I don't know what I… I didn't mean to say that!"  _Out loud, anyway._

Raphael just looked dazed. "You… you didn't mean it? Or you didn't mean to say it?"

"No, I—of course I meant it! I just didn't mean to say it! Not like this, not..."  _Not this soon._

She'd first realized it in a moment not too dissimilar from this one—they'd been joking around one evening, and Raphael had begun to smile, eyes sparkling and red mask crinkling at the corners as he laughed, and all at once, just from watching him, April had felt a pang in her chest that was like pain but warmer, lighter, originating in her heart and cresting over until it enveloped her entire being. And in that moment, she'd known.

_I love him._

But the rest wasn't so simple.

When you loved someone so much you felt ready to burst with the rapture of it, you told them so, right? That's what she'd always thought. But with Raphael, something had made her hold back. She knew there was a possibility that if she told him, he wouldn't say it back, but that was perfectly understandable. After all, this was Raphael's first relationship—he was still getting used to the idea that a human could even find him attractive, much less love him in a romantic way. He would probably need a lot more time before he was even able to puzzle out the depth of his feelings for her, and longer still before he was able to put it into words.

No, she didn't expect him to say it…what really made her hesitate was whether or not he was even ready to  _hear_  it.

What kind of pressure would it put on him if she just came out and told him so soon into their relationship? What if it completely freaked him out? What if he felt bad that he wasn't as sure as she was? Raphael was a lot more sensitive than he let on, and for all she knew he would convince himself that the best thing to do would be to push her away so he didn't hurt her, or something idiotic like that.

So in the end, even though it felt rather dishonest, she'd decided not to say anything yet—at least not verbally. Instead she'd contented herself with expressing it in a thousand silent ways, in a smile or a touch, or even just a look, hoping that in some way he would sense it, like the vibration of footsteps over sand. Maybe by the time she actually spoke the words, on some level he would know she'd been telling him all along.

So much for that idea. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. At all. But it was too late to change it now. At this point all she could do was damage control.

"Look, just forget I said anything!" she said in a desperate and overly optimistic attempt to undo her error. "It was just a slip!"

"Yeah? Well that's one hell of slip, April! I mean, how 'm I supposed to just forget something like that? What 'm I even supposed to  _do_  with that?!"

"Nothing! I don't expect you to do anything, or say anything at all, I… god, I just—,"

"Jeezus! I mean, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but this ain't a fucking fairy tale! I  _definitely_  don't live in a castle, and no matter how many times you kiss me I ain't gonna turn into a PRINCE!"

"Well lucky for you I'm not exactly the princess type!" she shot back, feeling more than a flutter of irritation at his response. Sure, she'd known he wasn't ready to hear it, but she'd expected something more along the lines of confusion or shock, withdrawal—not outright hostility. "I don't need a fairytale, Raphael, I just—"

"Well then you're—that's just stupid!" he broke in, only barely catching himself in time to correct what he'd been about to say.

"Exactly what is that supposed to mean?" she said in a dangerous tone, crossing her arms over her breasts. Having a shouting match while sitting naked in a bubble bath should have been funny, or at least awkward, but she was too angry to care.

"IT MEANS YOU FUCKING DESERVE ALL THAT SHIT!" he bellowed, splashing soapy water everywhere. "All of it! ANY of it! Whatever the fuck it is you want, you should have it!"

April froze, and there was a beat of stunned silence in which the words just hung there in her head, as if she knew she should understand what they meant but her mind was drawing a blank. She just stared at his face in shock, and he glared right back, hot coals burning in his eyes. Then he broke eye contact self-consciously, knowing he'd given himself away, and her heart twisted like a washcloth being wrung out.

"Raph, I…" She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, and tried again. "Maybe all I want is you," she answered softly, waiting for him to look back at her. But when he did, his eyes were still blazing.

"No," he said with a fierce shake of the head. "No, that's fucking bullshit.  _Bull_.  _Shit_. What happens when I'm not enough, huh? What happens when you decide you want to be with someone normal, someone you can be seen with in public, in  _daylight_  for chrissake? How can you sit there and tell me you know for a fact you won't  _ever_  want something more? Vacations, picnics in Central Park, children and grandchildren." He was no longer yelling, but his eyes were challenging, riveting. She couldn't look away.

Even though she was sitting in hot water, April suddenly felt very cold, and her hands moved to her arms in an unconscious hug. "Why do I have to know anything for sure right now? What's wrong with just letting things be? Seeing how they go?"

He studied her for a moment and then leaned forward slightly, locking into her eyes. "For how long? Five years? Ten? Twenty? Then one day you realize it's not enough, and it's too late, you've missed your chance." Then he faltered for the first time and glanced away, clenching his jaw. "I don't…I don't wanna be the thing you regret."

April closed her eyes, her heart expanding painfully to fill her chest. What could she say to that? That he was wrong? That she would never feel differently than she did right now? The words would be so easy to say, and they would make him feel better… at least temporarily. But she couldn't bring herself to give false reassurance. He deserved more than that.

"I don't know," she replied honestly, her eyes still squeezed shut. "You're right. I don't know if I'll want those things someday." She drew a deep breath, and finally met his eyes again, hoping to convey with a look just how much she meant what she was about to say. "But I promise you that if I ever do, I'll tell you. Right away. No matter how long it's been, or how hard it is to say it, I'll tell you. Okay?" She felt warmth burning behind her eyes, but she refused to blink, afraid that if she let one tear slip, she wouldn't be able to stop the rest. And she didn't want Raphael to feel like he had to be okay with this just because she started crying.

They stared at each other for what felt like forever, everything disappearing except the two of them, as if the shroud of vanilla-scented steam coiling around them occluded all sound and movement. Then Raphael's hand moved toward her, rupturing the stillness, and he touched the side of her jaw gently with his knuckles. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, moisture pooling under her lids, but she didn't care anymore.

Raphael drew her in gently, and she stretched forward across the bathtub to melt into his arms, for once not even thinking of the miracle of his bare skin against hers.

He held her close but not tight, and she just stayed that way for a time, legs curled underneath her, chin hooked over his shoulder, her lips alongside his neck, inhaling the familiar musky scent that overpowered even the bubbles. She didn't cry; she didn't need to anymore. He was telling her, in his own wordless way, that it was all right, and the slow movement of the flat of his palm against her back was more of a balm to her emotions than any amount of tears could be.

Finally she drew back enough to look at his face, and they met each other's eyes. A fleeting look of hesitation crossed the turtle's face, and he opened his mouth to speak.

"April, I—"

"Shhhh," she said, silencing him. "I know; it's okay." She didn't know for sure whether he was going to say, 'I love you, too,' or 'I'm sorry,' but it didn't matter. She didn't need to hear it to know he was sorry, and when he finally said the other words, she wanted it to be because he felt it, because his whole being sang with the joy of it, because he couldn't hold them in any longer—not because he felt it was what she wanted to hear.

He studied her eyes before nodding in response, and she smiled a little to break the tension and kissed him softly. Then she twisted around so she was facing the same way he was, settled herself carefully between his legs (mindful of the tail), and leaned back against his plastron. Raphael draped one arm across her belly, holding her firmly against him and kissing her hair, then they exhaled as one and sank down a little lower in the water, April's hand gliding along his thigh alongside her before coming to rest at his knee.

_Now this is more like it,_ she thought, letting her eyes fall shut. The water, slightly scalding to begin with, was the perfect temperature now, and her body felt amorphous and almost weightless. Only the texture of Raphael's plastron against her back and the pleasant pressure of his arm holding her to him reminded her that she hadn't simply turned to liquid.

Her thoughts, at first as unformed as her body felt, began to drift. In spite of her blooper, things had worked out okay, but she was a little irritated with herself for having underestimated him so. Her reservations about telling him she loved him had been based on the assumption that either he might not actually be in love with her (yet), or he might not yet  _know_  if he was. She had never once thought that not only was he  _not_ confused, but he'd already thought out exactly what the implications might be if she felt the same way. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed perfectly feasible that he'd been hoping the topic wouldn't come up for quite some time, thereby postponing the moment when they'd have to take a realistic look at the future. It was only because she'd caught him by surprise that he'd reacted the way he did.

She reached for his hand where it drifted near her stomach, grasping it gently and feeling a squeeze in return before tracing the palm lightly with her fingertips.

"We could, you know," she said abruptly, continuing her thoughts out loud before realizing he would have no way of knowing what she was talking about.

"What?"

"Travel. Vacation."

"April…"

"We could! Get an RV, drive anywhere on the entire continent, if we wanted to, and just see the sights. Just because we don't have Northampton anymore…" She winced a little, hating that it sounded like it was they only thing she missed about Casey. "…Doesn't mean we're stuck in New York. If you can manage to stay hidden in the city here, anywhere else should be a piece of cake. And hey, Leo went overseas, so even that's not outside the realm of possibility."

She turned her head to the side a little to try and gauge whether or not he believed her, but she couldn't read his expression.

"Maybe…" he said finally, and it sounded to her like he at least  _wanted_  it to be true.

"And as far as kids go," she said, launching boldly ahead, "I'm not even sure I want any. But if I do, there are ways. They wouldn't be  _our_  children," she clarified before he could interrupt, "not biologically, anyway, but there's adoption, though that's probably a more realistic option for married couples, and artificial insemination. I'm not saying that's what I'd want to do!" she added when she felt him tense behind her. "I'm just pointing out that these days, any woman, single or otherwise, can choose to have a baby. If I ever felt like I wouldn't be fulfilled as a human being unless I experienced motherhood, there are options." She turned her head to look back at him. "Or, you know, maybe I'll just be happy with a dog."

Raphael snorted a little at that one, commenting on the only "safe" part of what she'd just said. "Or about a million cats," he said.

"Or that," she answered with a smile, squeezing his hand again.

He squeezed back before gently disentangling his hand from hers. Then he fidgeted behind her.

"I don't know if, uh…I don't know if I could do that. I mean, help raise a kid…if that's what you meant."

April thought it was a real mark of how close they had become that he was actually speaking what was on his mind. "I understand," she said. And she did. She sensed that Raphael wasn't just talking about his own suitability or inclination to be a father, but the logistical difficulties of raising a human child in general. For all public intents and purposes, April would be a single mother—but how would you explain to a five-year-old entering kindergarten that when family portrait day came, that they couldn't draw their "daddy" in the picture? Yeah…a short, green bald guy with three fingers brandishing ninja weapons and holding hands with "mom" might earn the poor kid a trip to the school counselor at the very least.

"I was speaking more in general terms," April continued, "just pointing out that being with you doesn't necessarily mean I'd have to resign myself to being childless forever, you know? For now, it's enough just to keep that in mind. We'll figure the rest out later, if it comes to that." She didn't know if saying any of this had helped ease his mind, but perhaps when he'd had a chance to think about it more, the idea of having a future together wouldn't seem so impossible.

He didn't answer her, not verbally anyway, but he wrapped both arms around her and hugged her gently from behind. Then he released her with his left arm and they were silent again, letting the water soothe their muscles and their minds.

Just as April was drifting into a hazy, vanilla-scented twilight that stole in just before sleep, she felt Raphael shift behind her, and his hands came up to begin massaging her shoulders with sure, unhurried strokes. She stirred and groaned softly as he skillfully worked her muscles, somehow finding and soothing knots and kinks she hadn't even been aware of—no doubt a talent resulting from years of working out muscle cramps after intense practice sessions. A few more minutes of that exquisite treatment, and April felt ready to melt right into the foamy water.

Until he began kissing her neck.

Suddenly her body, which only moments ago had felt almost liquefied, was solid again, and she was sharply aware of every place he was touching her, from the innocuous but comforting pressure of his body behind her, to the warmth of his breath where he nuzzled her neck. She tilted her head to allow him easier access, and her breathing sped up as his hands left her shoulders to move slowly over her, gliding lightly down her arms and across her belly before trailing slowly along her thighs.

"Maybe this bubble bath thing ain't so bad after all," Raphael murmured close to her ear.

"Oh yeah?" she answered somewhat breathlessly as his hands retreated up her thighs. "Why's that?"

"Well, y'know… soap makes everything nice 'n…  _slippery_."

Then April sucked sharply as his hand found her breast, cupping it and fondling lightly while he lipped at her earlobe. His other hand travelled down, down, down, gliding along her inner thigh until he at last found the very center of her, urging her to a place where individual senses blurred and pure sensation took over, ending in a blaze of white light.

Much later, as she lay recovering in his arms, he whispered that he loved her. And as she echoed the words back to him, her heart soaring, she felt, somehow, that he'd been telling her all along.

-=-=-=-=-=-


	8. Spring

* * *

  
"Hey, Earth to Raph!"

Raphael looked up with a start. "Huh? Oh, sorry," he responded, clearing his throat self-consciously. "My turn again?"

"Yup, your turn again," April said with a sigh, "Just like it's been the last three times you spaced out. Listen, if you don't like Rummy 500, we can play a different game. I have board games, or—"

"No, no, it ain't that," the turtle answered quickly. "The game's fine—I guess I'm just, um, havin' a little trouble focusing," he lied. It wasn't his focus that was the problem—it just wasn't the  _game_  he was focusing on.

"Well sure, I understand," April responded with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "It does take quite a bit of concentration, but after a while you can see a  _very subtle_  pattern emerging here. I'm not sure I've gotten a full handle on it yet, but from what I can tell so far it goes something like this: I discard, and then it's your turn. You discard, and then it's my turn."

Raph made a mental grab for one of his standard sarcastic comebacks, but he came up blank.  _Shit._  The night just kept getting better and better. "Thanks, I think I got that," he grumbled instead, but based on how April's smile widened, she hadn't missed her small victory. Ignoring her satisfied grin, Raphael proceeded to examine his cards carefully, determined to show her up with a brilliant play that would send him rocketing into the lead!

Or at least into respectability.

He rearranged the cards in his hand and examined them with growing dread, realizing he had nothing to play. He switched to desperately scanning the many arrays of sets and runs that April had spread out in front of her, hoping to be able to play something,  _anything_ off of them—but it was no use. He didn't have a damn thing. Just as he was about to discard in defeat, April spoke up.

"So, are you going to draw a card anytime soon?"

He looked up at her, slightly puzzled for a moment, then groaned inwardly as he realized he was supposed to begin the turn by drawing a new card.

"You didn't  _forget_ , did you? Lose  _focus_  again?"

Thinking fast, he answered, "No, I uh… was, ya know, just gettin' things organized first." He switched a couple of cards around, as if he hadn't been  _quite_  ready to draw yet, before pulling a new card off of the deck.  _Please let it be something I can play_ …

But before he'd even really looked at it, a slight movement made him glance up to see April massaging a kink out of her shoulder, tilting her head to the side and slowly rubbing the offending muscle as her eyes closed in relief…and just like that his mouth went dry and his cards were forgotten. When she opened her eyes again, he looked hurriedly back down at his cards, unimaginably grateful to see that he was still holding them at all. Then he discarded one of them at random.

Her eyes followed his hand to the discard pile. "Ooh, rummy!" she declared triumphantly, and pounced on his card to add it to her own points.

Raphael blinked and glanced down at his hand again, then closed his eyes.  _Fuck._  He hadn't even checked that new card. April refrained from gloating—at least verbally—but she made no effort to hide her smug smile.

Miraculously on his next turn, Raph actually drew something he could use, and he laid down some point cards.

April gave a low whistle. "Whoa, Raph, that's… fifteen points, huh? Keep this up and you might even fight your way back into positive numbers!"

He glared at her, all the while thinking,  _C'mon! Just one measly comeback! Even one a' Mikey's would be fine at this point!_ But instead he found himself distracted by the way her mouth turned up at one corner when she was trying not to smile, and  _that_ reminded him of how good her lips felt on his skin, warm and moist and… it was no use. "Your turn, smartass," he managed lamely.

April smiled. "Just as soon as you discard…"

_Goddamn it!_ He slapped a card down with just a  _bit_  more force than was necessary and looked away. When he glanced back again she was stretching forward to draw a new card, almost feline in her movements, and he found himself mentally urging her to lean just a bit more so he could get a better view below the neckline of her shirt…

Just as her fingers touched the deck her eyes slid up to meet his, catching him staring, and he looked away abruptly.

"Raphael? Is everything okay?" she inquired as she sat back slowly.

"Yea—I mean no; it uh, feels a bit… stuffy in here. Mind if I open the window?"

April's eyebrows went up. "Open the window? It's not even 60 degrees out there!"

"I know, but I could use the fresh air." He got up and cracked the window in the kitchen, and returned to sit on the floor. He sat there for a few moments, and then realized April was staring at him expectantly.

She sighed. "Your turn again."

"Right…" He quickly played his turn, and a few more passed in rapid succession. The brisk air seeping in from the cracked window brought the temperature in the room down considerably, though, and soon April was rubbing her arms against the chill.

"Is that enough fresh air for now?" she wondered with a shiver. "I'm starting to get goose bumps."

"Oh, sorry," he said, and began to rise with the intention of closing the window. "I'll just…" but his voice trailed off as his eyes passed over her—and fell to rest at a point decidedly lower than her face. Chilly indeed.

"Forget it, I'll do it," she said, rolling her eyes as she stood up and went into the kitchen.

Raph tried  _very_  hard not to stare too obviously as she walked away—seriously, he tried. Yeah. But, but, why the hell did she have to walk like that, with her hips doing that… swaying thing? And the worst part was, she wasn't even trying! Even dressed as she was in a casual T-shirt and loose-fitting pajama bottoms he couldn't keep his eyes off her. In fact that kind of made it worse, because he had to watch more closely to catch even the slightest hint of her figure underneath.

_She's gonna turn around any second and catch ya staring again…better look away_ , he warned himself, but it seemed he was powerless to force his gaze elsewhere. Fortunately she didn't turn around—in fact, she appeared completely oblivious to him as she spied some dishes sitting beside the sink in a drying rack and began putting them away. Raph decided to take his next turn while she was dealing with the dishes (and if there was any confusion over whose turn it was when she returned, he would be  _happy_  to set her straight), but before he could draw a card April stretched to reach the upper cabinet, and he caught a pale glimpse of skin below the hem of her shirt. Raphael held his breath as he waited for a recurrence, and the next time she reached he could just make out the slender track of her spine leading down to the small of her back. He knew too well what it would feel like if he were to touch her there—the velvet warmth of her skin, the way his hands practically encircled her waist, the taut plain of her belly as he traveled upward …

He swallowed hard, and shifted to find a position more… accommodating to his suddenly throbbing tail. He was simultaneously disappointed and relieved when she was finished putting the cups away (was it just him, or had she taken her sweet time about it?) But then she moved on to the pots and pans, which, as it turned out, was just as entrancing—the pots were kept in a cabinet  _below_ , and even those aforementioned loose pajama pants couldn't hide her curves when she was bending over like that.

Raphael wasn't consciously aware of deciding to move—all he knew was that one moment he was sitting on the floor, and the next he was standing behind her. He touched her, and she turned to him with a gasp of surprise, but then his hands were on her, and he was feeling the softness of the skin that moments ago he'd been daydreaming about. She responded with an enthusiasm that matched his own, pressing herself to him, her body burning in his arms as his mouth found her neck. Oh god, she felt good, and he couldn't get enough, couldn't—

"Raph? Raphael! Did you hear me?"

The turtle started, and blinked in surprise to find himself still seated on the floor in the living area. He was even more surprised to see April staring down at him with a bemused expression. He shook his head sharply to clear it. "What… uh, what'd you say?"

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head, or like he was a freaky mutant turtle or something. "I asked you if you'd like a drink or anything. While I'm up."

"Oh, right." He cleared his throat. "I mean um, thanks, but I'm fine."

"I'm not so sure you are," she replied slowly as she studied him. "Look, Raph," she said with a sigh, "I think I know what this is about."

His heart lurched—but before he could think of how to answer, she went on.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice anything? I mean, one would think you've never been around a girl before! You can barely manage to string four words together tonight! I thought you could handle this—after all, you've seen me naked enough by now. But obviously, it's just too much distraction." She sighed again. "In the interests of moving this game along, how about I just go put a bra on, okay? Would that make you more comfortable?"

"Put on a… NO!" he blurted out. "I mean," he continued in a less panicked voice, "I'm, uh, perfectly comfortable with things the, uh, the way they are. More than comfortable! In fact, I'm at the highest level of comfort regarding the wearing of, um, undergarments. So, you don't need to like, change or anything. I mean, if you're comfortable that way."

She looked at him pointedly. "Well if that's not the problem, then what is it?"

_Shit._  He'd been planning to tell her—really! He just… hadn't been able to figure out how to bring it up! And of course the longer he waited, the more difficult it became. Even now, all he could manage was to sit there with his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. His "problem" was definitely outside the realm of anything humans had to deal with, and even though she'd assured him time and time again that she didn't care that he wasn't human, he worried that this just might be different. It was so…so…  _animal_. What if she was offended, or, or repulsed?

Finally, realizing that saying  _nothing_  was worse than saying the wrong thing, he said what seemed like the safest thing at the moment. He had learned  _something_  in the time they'd been together.

"It's just that… you're so beautiful I can't help it." Before the words were finished, he knew how lame it sounded, and one look at her face told him she wasn't buying it.

"Very sweet, I'm sure," she said in an amused tone. "But try again."

"Know what?" he said irritably as he threw his cards down and stood up. "Forget it. I'm never gonna catch up anyway, an' we got training early, so I think I'll just head out." He moved towards the fire escape window, mentally cursing himself even as he did so.  _That's it, put it off again—like it's gonna be any easier to tomorrow, you goddamn coward._ But it was easier, so much easier, to push it all aside. So much easier to be the one doing the leaving.

But before he could slip out April came to him, and he froze at her touch, closing his eyes and repressing a shudder as her fingertips grazed lightly down his arm. She leaned in close, sliding one arm over his shoulder from behind and touching her cheek to the side of his face. Then she whispered breathily, "That's too bad… because there's just something about these  _spring_  nights, don't you think?"

He stood rooted by shock for a split second, and then he wheeled around, appraising her suspiciously. What he saw on her face made him gape at her in shock. "You know!"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" she asked, fluttering her eyes innocently.

"You… how… I don't believe you! Here I was gettin' myself all worked up cuz I didn't know how ta tell you, and you…  _you already knew_!" Then his eyes went wide as he realized the implications of this. "An' all that stuff back there in the kitchen… you were doin' that on purpose!"

She gave up the act and began laughing, almost doubling over with mirth. "I couldn't help it!" she managed amidst her laughter. "You… you should've seen yourself, trying so hard to act normal even though you were practically drooling!"

He was still too stunned to even be angry. "But how, I mean…"

"Oh puh-lease!" she gasped out between bouts of laughter. "I've known you guys since you were fifteen! You think I wouldn't have picked up on it after being ogled by the four of you every spring?" She was doubled over now, tears forming in her eyes. "I mean, a-all of you were pretty amusing, especially when you were younger, but I think Leo was always the funniest—h-he tried so hard, but he couldn't help it… and when I caught him staring, he'd say…" She could barely get the words out, she was laughing so hard. "He'd say something like, 'is that a new shirt?' or 'did you get your hair cut?' And I didn't want to embarrass him, so I'd always say 'yes'! I swear, Leo probably still thinks I buy a whole new wardrobe every year to go with my spring makeover!" At this she couldn't hold herself up anymore, and she sank to the floor clutching her ribs and trying to breathe as she laughed helplessly.

Raphael was quiet for a moment, watching her fit of laughter. "Yeah… I guess it must have seemed pretty  _funny_  to you… glad we could provide some entertainment," he said flatly, and turned back to the window.

"No, wait, Raph!" she said, her laughter ceasing abruptly. She approached and rested her hand lightly on his shoulder.

He stopped, but remained facing the window. "No, I get it—it's all a big joke to you," he said, shrugging her hand off. "I don't laugh at all your weird mammal quirks, but whatever. You stay here and have yerself a laugh—I'll go back home an' try not to ogle anyone too much along the way."

"I'm sorry! You're right, I didn't mean to… I mean, you were obviously having a hard time bringing it up, and I really just wanted to get it out in the open! I'm sorry—I admit I may have gotten a little carried away. Look," she said, sliding an arm around his shoulder once again. "I didn't mean it in a derogatory way—I understand, it's perfectly natural. You're a turtle, and turtles have a mating season—it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Raphael relaxed a little.

"And you're absolutely right—you have a lot more things to put up with from me. I mean, at least your hormones are on an annual cycle instead of a  _monthly_ one," she said. "Please, don't go." When he didn't answer, she tucked her head down next to the hollow of his shoulder, her hair brushing along his neck. She inhaled, and sighed against his skin with a sound like wind through prairie grass. "Please?" she coaxed.

He turned to face her again, but surprised her by taking firm hold of her shoulders and holding her away from him. He looked at her, his expression very serious, and April remained quiet as his eyes scanned over hers for a long moment. "That ain't gonna work, April," he said quietly.

She flushed slightly at his words, and began to look downright ashamed, but before she could respond Raph said, "What I mean is, that ain't gonna work for… at  _least_  another couple a' weeks. Would ya mind puttin' a little more effort into it for a while longer yet?" He grinned at her then, and April let out a breath, looking adorably relieved.

"So you're not really mad, then?" she asked.

In response he simply pulled her to him and kissed her like he'd been longing to do all night. "Naw, guess not," he answered finally, still holding her firmly against him. God, she felt good—and now that he wasn't trying so hard to fight it, to try and act "normal", he was finding it much easier to relax and be himself. It really was only  _early_  spring, after all—he'd just been so worried about her reaction, it had made everything worse. Now, his overwhelming relief that she already knew, and was okay with it, drowned out any real desire to punish her for her prank.

"I was a bit irritated, I guess," he continued, "but I gotta start learnin' to let things go." He paused for dramatic effect before adding, "I mean, you're my best prospect right now, and I ain't doin' myself any favors if I get mad at ya for every little thing…"

She pulled back a little and arched an eyebrow. "'Best prospect,' huh? Right this second, I'd say your best prospect is that piñata I brought you guys from Mexico."

Raphael crinkled his face in disgust. "You kiddin'? I ain't goin' near that thing. Last I saw, it was in Mikey's room."

April's face went blank for a moment, and then she shook her head with a look of utter repulsion on her face. "Ugh," she shuddered. "I'm  _really_  regretting I mentioned it."

Then she looked at him, and they both laughed. He pulled her in for another kiss, unable to stop himself from testing the texture of that skin he'd been fantasizing about earlier, and when the kiss ended she sighed and relaxed against him.

"I really do feel bad, though," she said after a moment. "Let's… what do you say we just do this over? We can sit down and talk, and you can make fun of  _me_ this time."

Raph chuffed a little at that last remark—as if he needed  _permission_  to make fun of her… But after that last kiss, and the effort he was currently putting into keeping his hands from wandering too freely, Raph wasn't exactly in the mood for a long discussion. "S'alright. Really I jus' wanted to bring it up cuz it might seem like I have a bit of a…one-track mind for a while, and uh… I'll prob'ly be a bit more… a  _lot_  more persistent, an' I don't want you to feel—"

"It's okay, Raph," she cut in, pulling back again to look at his face. "I know how to say 'no'. I just haven't wanted to yet."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "There's um… somethin' else, too," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"What is it?" she asked attentively, probably trying to make up for her previous mishandling of the situation.

He released her from his embrace and cleared his throat. "Well… see… at the height of the, um, season… if we…when we, well… you know…" Sure, he was comfortable  _doing_  these things, but talking about it was another matter.

Though she looked slightly amused by the way he talked around it, she nodded in understanding, encouraging him to continue.

"Right," Raph said. "Well, the thing is, the usual… recovery period… don't exactly apply anymore."

And there it was—the expression he'd been waiting for as her brain caught up with the meaning of his words. "Sorry… what?" she asked dumbly.

He suppressed a grin with a mighty effort before replying casually, "Yeah, the down-time is a bit, ah, shorter."

"Shorter?" she repeated dazedly. "How much shorter?"

"Well, that kinda depends. It'll get shorter over the next couple weeks until it becomes, well… completely unnecessary for a while, actually."

"Completely… completely unnecessary?" she repeated a bit weakly. "You, you can't be serious..." Face frozen, eyes wide, she looked to be having trouble processing this bit of information. But as Raphael watched, her mouth tightened and her forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. Then she looked back up at him, a slight half-smile forming as she shook her head slowly. "Nice try, Raph. You almost had me there, but I'm not that gullible."

She seemed so sure of her conclusion that he was trying to trick her, and so proud of herself for not falling for it, that he  _almost_  regretted having to wipe that that cute little smirk off her face.

In answer, he simply folded his arms across his chest and met her eyes, his mouth curving in a sly smile of his own.

Her expression faltered for a moment as she stared back, but she quickly regained her poise. "Nope, it's just not possible," she said confidently.

Raphael's smile widened into a cocky grin. "Guess you would know, all the turtles you been with before an' everything," he countered.

April's smile fled for good at that, and her eyes grew wide again. "You're really… you're not making this up?"

Raph continued to grin as he met her eyes unfalteringly. "Hey listen, you c'n think what you want—ain't like I gotta convince you right now or anything…plenty of time for that." And just because he couldn't resist, he allowed his eyes to slide slowly downward over her entire body before returning his gaze to her face.

April's lack of reaction to that was good indicator of how well she was handling this new bit of information. Her mouth opened and closed once, soundlessly, before she finally managed to stutter, "Well then h-how long do you—I mean, um, when do you… stop?"

He shrugged. "When the skin's raw." It was an exaggeration, of course.

Well, sort of.

Okay, not really.

At this point he really thought if April's eyes got any bigger, they'd roll right onto the floor. God he was enjoying this. Raphael couldn't hold it in anymore—he laughed. It wasn't often he could put her completely at a loss for words, and he decided that her expression completely, without a doubt made up for all of his previous discomfort and then some. "Oh, are we playing a new game now? Okay, I think I got this one," he said, poking a thoughtful finger on his chin. "You're a fish, right? Or… a mouse that just saw a cat?"

At this she closed her mouth and made an effort to compose herself, apparently going for "righteous indignation" by the way she crossed her arms in front of her and stood up tall, but it only made Raph laugh harder.

Eyes narrowing, she waited silently for him to recover himself, and the longer he laughed, the more her eyes flashed until they were practically shooting sparks.

"Funny. Real funny," she said. "But I have a better game—how about we play 'Guess Who's Going Home Sexually Frustrated Tonight'? You get three guesses, and the first two don't count."

Oops, that didn't sound good. Raph knew if ever there was a time to utilize his ninja speed, this was it. He darted forward, entrapping her with his arms and kissing her soundly before she had time to react.

When he pulled back she sputtered a little and braced her arms against him, trying to push away, but he held her firmly. Damn, she was cute when she was mad.

"Raph!" she squawked. "Let me go, you can't mmph-,"

He cut off her words with another kiss, longer this time even though she was still resistant, and his hand moved to cradle the back of her head. His own senses were spinning by the time he pulled away again, lost in the feel of her, the intoxicating scent of her, and it took April a few seconds to find her own voice.

"I—you…what could POSSIBLY give you the idea that kissing me is a good idea right now?" she protested, sounding both angry and more than a little flustered.

He studied her then, taking in the flushed cheeks, the flashing eyes, the overwhelming, irresistible  _vibrancy_  of her—and he gently brushed some hair out of her face. "It's just that, you're so beautiful, I can't help it," he whispered gruffly.

April just stared back at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to burst into tears… but at last she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, and Raphael scooped her up as her body went liquid in his arms.

_Now this is more like it,_ Raphael thought, and even through a growing haze of desire, he couldn't help but bask in the slow-forming realization that this spring wasn't going to be the frustrating, uncomfortable, and often humiliating affair it usually was. No. In fact, as he carried April to the bedroom, he was certain this was going to be the best spring EVER.

-=-=-=-=-=-


End file.
